


rasp of scales on tender skin

by Charrelous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (But that will be later because we have tragic backstory to get through first), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Dragons, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, There will be shenanigans, Trauma, dragon!zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charrelous/pseuds/Charrelous
Summary: Zuko is a dragon, but does not know until the shocking agony of the Agni Kai forces him to change, sending him fleeing from his old life as the Fire Nation prince. Alone, severely injured, and unable to change back, he collapses on the property of a certain established Earth Kingdom family.And, well, there's simply nothing better than having a dragon around as a seeing eye animal to convince your parents you're safe enough to get into all sorts of mischief.(AKA, Zuko is a dragon and is inducted into the Beifong family as a seeing eye animal but is mostly just Toph's friend. And the Avatar happens.)
Comments: 194
Kudos: 1140





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well! My wonderful fiancee convinced me to watch Avatar, and, though I'm so many years behind, I decided to write something for it! A lot serious, and later, I hope, a lot of fun as well. 
> 
> Please feel free to tell me how I'm doing, and if you like it! Your kind words mean a lot to me.

:Protect him: the dragon hisses, warm air blowing Iroh’s hair away from his face. The breath smells, oddly enough, of cinnamon. :It is his destiny to restore balance and aid the Avatar.:

Only the sound of shifting scales announces the weight she settles into his arms. A black hatchling, a little dragonet, snuggles close to the warmth of his body with a content sigh, blinking up at him with sleepy golden eyes.

_ Trusting _ eyes.

Unlike his parents, his muzzle is unadorned with tendrils or mane. Too long wings dangle from a sinuous body, rounded with baby fat like a plump cat-snake. When he yawns and tucks his nose in Iroh’s elbow, he exposes brilliant needle teeth, untouched by use.

Iroh’s heart swells in his chest, a tidal wave of affection too powerful to contain. He loves him at once.

Apparently pleased with the softness of his new nest, the dragonet kneads his paws against Iroh’s body before closing his eyes and dropping off straight to sleep. Avoiding thoughts of polar bear puppies is an act in futility.

Agni forbid his parents pick up such mental comparisons.

His first attempt at speech fails to make it around the sudden lump in his throat.

For his second try, he manages a thick, “Does he have a name?”

Ran huffs at him. Were he any judge of reptilian facial features (and he isn’t, that’s for sure), he would say that she’s amused, but the cues are almost impossible to read. Relying on mental voice to convey emotion is a minefield of assumptions.

:We had hoped to name our first hatchling Druk: she offers. :But he is no longer our hatchling. It would be more appropriate for his new mother to name him.:

Iroh opens his mouth to ask what she means (for how could he convince someone to help him raise a dragon hatchling? Poor thing would be killed immediately), but Shaw leans close with fire lapping from his maw. Despite the heat, the flames don’t burn his skin; rather, he finds it more akin to the heat of a campfire, of the life of another living being.

Like love. Like compassion. Like the secret of fire bending, without relying on anger or hatred.

The fire covers the dragonet, too bright for Iroh to see through it (and for a frightened moment, even though he knows, he  _ knows _ , these two wouldn’t kill a hatchling, but for all of his life, he’s only seen fire  _ burn _ )-

And he’s holding a human infant in his arms.

He gapes at the dragons, unable to help himself. His brain is afire with the hows and whys, because the baby in his arms is certainly human-

Except for one black scale resting on the ground, shed from the infant as he snuggled close for warmth-

Shaw nudges the hatchling (the  _ baby _ ) with his muzzle. Long whiskers wriggle one the infant’s belly, stirring him from his impromptu nap with a giggle. Iroh can’t help but rock him just as he did to Lu Ten, cradling him in some vague, instinctive effort to protect him from the world.

Yet, the great beast’s eyes are solemn. “Agni has taken your brother’s first child in the womb. She will be born without a heartbeat, Iroh.” A tear slides down his scaly cheek as his lips curl into a snarl. Even before the words find meaning in Iroh’s ears, he marvels that such a detached creature can mourn a life he’s never met.

A shudder wracks his body. He hadn’t even known Ursa was with child. Has he been away for so long? 

And he suddenly sympathizes with the dragon, because a sob he can’t reason or negotiate with worms out of his body. Ursa would have loved a child. Ozai is not a kind man, and he knows deep down in his heart that his brother is capable of coldness. Of cruelty. Raising a child, watching them bloom-

He understands now the longing in her eyes when she saw him with Lu Ten. The love they share, as father and son. 

She craves someone to love that will love her in turn. To bring a happy life into the world, shield them from the mistakes of their elders so that they might grow in peace-

He wants to escape to grieve with this news, to let the sorrow well out of him like a draining wound, but he’s holding a dragonet and the parents are speaking, words sliding around in his brain, shadows of fish he can almost catch-

:Convince her to raise this child. He will be safe with them.:

Will he, he wants to ask. No, to  _ demand _ . He grew up with Ozai, he knows what he’s like, and these creatures have never seen the war for themselves, only felt the world sliding out of tune with the Fire Nation fumbling the instrument. Perhaps they think them misguided, and many of them are-

But Ozai might have a darkness in his soul.

( _ A part of him whispers that once he’s Fire Lord, he can keep that evil from spreading. He’ll try to get the world on the right path before it's broken by Sozin’s heirs. _ )

In the end, he bows his head and accepts his task as given. Who is he to divine the path of spirits and destiny?

Agni may have taken one child, but so many more are suffering under Azulon’s war, under  _ Sozin’s _ war.

He will protect this child until his dying breath. And, under a new name, he shall be Ozai’s son, Iroh’s nephew. 

And the burn of throne and title will never be his to bear. Iroh can keep him from that, at least.

* * *

It is a dangerous game that he and Ursa play. More so because it will not just be their lives on the line if they are discovered.

The hatchling is renamed Zuko, and Iroh sees in his sister-in-law that although she is grieving, although her heart has been cleaved in two by a loss he cannot even imagine, she wishes to love him as her own.

Though Iroh nearly has a heart attack when he hears rumors of Ozai threatening the newborn. Cold and sickly Zuko is from the transition of dragon den to human palace, he is nothing like the firebending protege at first wail that Ozai dreams of. He hopes and prays that his brother’s plans to throw the infant over the walls is a mere rumor.

_ (His heart knows the truth, and aches at the dragons' decision. Why would they give an innocent to Ozai? And he regrets not speaking out then, regrets it with all his soul, but the child belongs to Ozai now and there’s only so much he can do without raising his brother’s ire.) _

The rumors of him not being a firebender, however, would’ve made him laugh had he but someone to share his joke. To think a  _ dragon _ wouldn’t be a  _ firebender… _

Ursa does not agree with his amusement.

They watch and wait for any sign of his heritage to show through. Together, they bear the burden of this secret, this truth.

And no signs reveal themselves. Were it not for the black scale hanging from his neck, he would’ve doubted that he had held a baby dragon at all.

Zuko must be safe. He is the firstborn son of a prince of the Firelord. Ursa is as protective as any mother dragon. This he must believe, with all the fire in his soul.

Because the war hungers and grows, feeding as any beast must, and Iroh is a General, heir to the throne, Dragon of the West. He must do all he can to ease Zuko’s burden, to stop the suffering before it worsens.

He will see the boy often enough that nothing can go wrong. He can keep an eye on Ozai, and Zuko will be fine.

He must be fine. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's POV as he goes through his earliest years until he reaches his first shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is not kind. It is disjointed, chaotic, and violent. It deals with child abuse, graphic burn wounds, etc.
> 
> Good news, this will be the most disjointed chapter! More good news, things will get better from here on out! This is the hurt before the comfort!
> 
> Don't hurt me, please. <3

Zuko is younger than most when he understands the meaning of  _ his _ . Toys, good food, sometimes something eye catching and shiny.

As he grows, much to everyone’s exasperation, it extends to people he trusts.

The staff who are kind to him become his with surprising swiftness, even if they do not know it. He toddles after them and gets in the way, making a right nuisance of himself until his mother whisks him away.

They do not realize the extent until one of the head guards dresses down one of Zuko’s entourage (ie. babysitter) in his presence. Ozai need not have doubted that the boy was a firebender; every flame rises to new heights with his toddler wails.

There are days that it is hard to work under the gaze of too-sharp golden eyes.

Then Azula is born, and everything changes. 

It is clear from the start that Ozai favors his daughter, born with the proper signs of a fire bending master. Even as he is favored by his mother, Zuko begins the fight to winning his father’s affection, his warmth, his love.

So he finds that, from a young age, fire bending is a challenge. Every movement, every breath, is control, is force. Solid stance. Sharp movements. His instructors ever despair of his sinuous turns and twisting forms. Like a dance, they spit in disgust. Improper. Wrong.

Like a serpent.

Azula produces her first flame, and Ozai gives the instructors permission to do whatever it takes to get Zuko caught up to the comet of his sister’s passage.

He wants mother to be his, like the staff, like the others he trusts, but mother is father’s.

The idea that people do not divide others into mine and theirs does not ever occur to him. He hoards affection, guards it.

He is jealous of Azula, but all he knows is the fire bending leads to pain and she is too young to be hurt. The pain is normal for him, but he wants to keep Azula safe, to protect her.

She is not his, she is hers, belonging to naught but herself.

The tutors are careful not to leave wounds where they might show, but he is certain that they do not hurt Azula like they hurt him. And he knows the truth of it. They hurt him because he is a burden on their teaching, a worthless student. Too fluid, like a waterbender.

He wants to prove them wrong. As Azula’s star rises, he fights to prove that he’s worth something, anything more than they say he is.

Zuko only gives in to the urge to growl at his tutors once. Once is all he needs to learn the consequential lesson in respect.

“Lucky to be born,” his father tells him, and he wishes that he were an earthbender instead, so that the ground might swallow him whole. He goes to bed with the taste of ashes on his tongue.

Uncle is an oasis when he’s there, but the war calls him and he must go. When he returns, he spends much of his time with Lu Ten, and the whole palace is lighter with their laughter. Zuko only has to play with Lu Ten once to decide that his cousin is also a member of  _ his  _ people.

Aching with bruises and words kept behind his teeth, Zuko seeks Uncle out less and less when he comes home from battle. What would General Iroh, slayer of the last dragon, see in a useless firstborn son that struggles in his forms? No wonder Ozai does not treat him as Uncle treats his son.

“Lucky to be born,” his father tells him, and he believes him, heart and soul. Why else would they hurt him so?

Ember Island is supposed to smooth out the rough edges, bring truth to light. 

“What would happen if I pushed you off, Zuzu?” Azula asks, tone calm, almost casual. And his answer is lost in the howl of wind.

Air rushing past his face feels like flying (as if he would have any way to know). The rightness of the sky has him forgetting to scream.

“No one will believe you,” she tells him when he wakes. His body is broken, but less so than his heart, which doesn’t understand how he could come so close to flight and  _ fall. _

Azula is right. No one believes him

Afterwards, he starts to dream of flying. Zuko tells no one. If he wakes up in tears, that is between him and the darkness of his room.

* * *

Lu Ten dies in the battle of Ba Sing Se, and Uncle retreats. Six hundred days gone to waste, Ozai spits when he thinks Zuko can’t hear him. Azula agrees, he knows, but all he can think of is the love in Iroh’s eyes when he looked at his son and wonder if the world will ever see that light again. He thinks of playing in the garden with his cousin and coming back to Iroh covered in mud to drink tea and hear stories.

Lu Ten was  _ his _ , and something in his throat wants to keen, give voice to the grief clogging his neck.

He wants, wants, wants. He wants Uncle to come home. He wants the world to be right again.

Instead, Uncle decides not to return to the palace, and Ozai demands to be crown prince in his stead.

In the wake of Zuko’s humiliation in front of Azulon, he hardly processes the ultimatum that follows. But if Grandfather’s words make no sense, his sister’s  _ do. _

“Azula always lies,” he chants to himself, willing the truth of her mockery to fade.

His mother tells him goodbye, and he does not realize it until she’s already gone. Just as suddenly, before he can mourn one loss, Azulon is dead and Ozai is Firelord. Zuko is crown prince. He’s the heir no one wants. Ozai favors his daughter and he is  _ alone.  _

So he just has to be better. He’s worthy, he  _ is _ , he just has to prove it.

Maybe, if he succeeds, his father will love him. Surely there’s affection in there that Ozai is simply restraining, because the Fire Nation can’t have a weak heir. Ozai keeps his love and pride to himself to make Zuko strong. To make Zuko the best heir he can be.

“Lucky to be born,” his father tells him, and Zuko turns those words over and over in his head. Lucky to be born, maybe, but what he can do with that life will be amazing, he knows.

(If firebending becomes easier with his anger, his frustration, his  _ fear _ , he doesn’t speak of it. As is proper.)

In the end, his patience and hard work pays off. Zuko turns thirteen, and rumors of a war meeting float amongst the palace servants. His heart jumps in elation. A war meeting! A chance to prove that he’s grown, that he’s appropriate as the heir (that he’s not a mistake).

Uncle is back in the palace for the first time in years (and he wants to be happy, he does, but he wasn’t there when Zuko needed him, when mother vanished, when life got so much harder). He’s softer, kinder. When word spreads that General Iroh is invited to the meeting, he sees his chance. 

It doesn’t take as much pleading as he anticipated.

He can’t miss this chance.

Perhaps his desperation reads on his face, because Uncle sighs, voice warm with indulgence but shrouded in worry. (Even Uncle thinks I’m not good enough, he thinks, before squashing that thought like a particularly ugly bug.)

“I will let you in,” Uncle informs him, a heavy hand on his shoulder. “But, no matter what you hear, you  _ must _ be silent, Prince Zuko.”

An easy promise to make.

“Of course, Uncle.”

Although he promised his good behavior, Uncle’s expression is more guarded and wary than he’s ever seen as he guides Zuko in. Is he afraid? What could Uncle be afraid of?

_ Weak _ , he thinks, but it’s in his father’s voice. And he shudders.

He intends to follow through, he does. But the plan that is spewed is appalling, a waste of life, a sacrifice of  _ people. _ They know the division will die, and mean to do it anyways! A deliberate slaughter-

He doesn’t remember what he says. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is the disrespect shown to the general in the process.

_ Good _ , his heart whispers.  _ Anyone who fights as he does deserves the disrespect. _

He doesn’t fear the Agni Kai. He may not have surpassed Azula, but he’s better than most. He’ll win, he’ll prove the folly of this plan, he’ll show his honor by protecting his people. A worthy heir and crown prince.

Anticipation rushes his preparations with shaking hands. Even as Iroh preaches calm and a clear head, not letting the battle get to him, a smile tugs at his lips. This is what a prince is meant to be. He doesn’t understand why Uncle looks so distressed. This is what he’s waited for for so long-

Zuko steps into the arena driven by purpose, by strength, by conviction. Doubt has no place here, and he takes a deep breath of the warm air. Eyes closed, he soaks in the heat.

He turns-

And it’s not the General before him-

Ozai, Firelord Ozai,  _ father- _

Understanding crumples his legs to the dirt and he covers his disgrace with a bow, lower than he’s ever gone, lower than any prince should ever go-

“You will fight for your honor.”

No, no, no-

“Please, I meant no disrespect,” and the words taste like death and failure even as he points them towards the ground, “I am your loyal son.”

Ozai does not cease his slow stalk forward. No, Agni, please no-

“Stand up and fight!”

“Father, I will not fight you.”

A hand, warm and strong, cups his face and tilts his face up towards the blinding light. He can’t recall his father ever making any physical contact so gentle towards his son. Zuko gapes, perhaps to speak, but the words wither in his throat even as tears roll over Ozai’s fingers.

“You will learn respect,” he murmurs. “And suffering will be your teacher.”

He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t  _ understand- _

Flames pool in Ozai’s other hand, beautiful and damning, the heat too close-

He wouldn’t, surely, he wouldn’t kill his son-

White hot agony scorches his face, and all he can do is _ scream _ as the fire burns through skin and  _ nerves _ , the center going numb as the edges curl and wail-

Everything is white, there is nothing but the fire and the spreading pain-

Darkness encroaches on what remains of his vision. 

* * *

Is he dangling from someone’s arms? Stomach roiling, he scrambles his way into some semblance of consciousness. He tries to open his eyes, but they feel tied shut. Only one manages to creak open at first, and the other…

When it opens, a low moan escapes his throat. Vague shapes are all he can make out.

Memory of the fight returns, and he struggles in the strong arms as his guts make a bid for freedom. There’s not a bit of feeling from his wound, just horrifying numbness,  _ stillness _ that he’s never attained on his own. He’s placed on the floor.

Just in the nick of time. Bile crawls up his throat and he retches. If he had the energy, he would snarl at the hands rubbing his back, but he can only be thankful for the blessed relief.

Until he’s finished, after which he’s scooped right back up. Stars swim in his vision. He curses, loudly and colorfully.

The man holding him looks down, grief etched in every inch of his face. Oh. Uncle. Tears streak down his cheeks, landing on Zuko, and he wants to ask why he’s crying.

“Stay with me, Zuko,” Uncle whispers. Words thick as though filtered through cotton.

Oh. The edges of his vision are such a lovely white, clear even in the bad eye. Suddenly, it becomes harder to focus. Rest, his body craves rest, and he sees no reason not to comply.

Drowning in syrup…

“Zuko!”

Staying awake… Hurts… His body is hot, hot, and his very skin itches and shivers of its own accord.

Whatever Uncle sees in his face sparks increased urgency. Pale, he shakes him, but he’s so tired…

Are his arms shaking? He’s okay, he wants to say, I just need to sleep…

“Not right now, Zuko! You must stay in control!”

What an odd… Thing… To say…

* * *

Never has his bed felt so soft. So blessedly soft.

Yet, even though he’s only just awakened, his breath is coming in sharp, uncontrollable pants.

_ Control your breathing like a proper firebender _ , he tells himself. But he can’t, he can’t, something is wrong-

Everything is too sharp and fever bright-

Voices, there’s voices, they’re too loud and he wants to scream at them to be quiet, but he knows they’re his and he can’t bully what’s his, even if their voices  _ hurt- _

He tries to lift his head, but his neck feels too long and the feeling is nauseating-

Uncle is sitting in the corner of his room, watching him with tears running down his face. He wants to reassure him, tell him there’s no need to cry, that he’ll be okay, but how could his body be all wrong? Bringing his arms under his body to try and push himself up reveals-

Reveals-

A scream rips from him, rent from his throat like the claws of a great beast, like  _ his _ claws, black scaled appendages that move when he wills them but look like nothing he’s ever seen, tipped in pearly white talons, and the sound is unlike anything he’s ever made-

Not even human, an unholy cry more like the wail of a royal hawk-

“Zuko, you must stay calm!” Uncle’s voice is sharp, demanding of attention, so he lifts his head to stare, panting.

Smoke coils from the nostrils placed at the end of his muzzle. His  _ muzzle. _ He stretches his maw open to speak, and all that answers his command is a rumbling snarl.

The voices outside fall silent at the sound. But he can hear  _ everything _ , from their breathing to the creaking of the floor-

From one ear.

Just like his vision is sharper through one eye.

Uncle is speaking. He wants to listen, he does, but his heartbeat is suddenly way too loud and his ears are ringing and he’s shaking from head to  _ tailtip _ , there’s wings on his back, he can feel them-

His instincts are firing along with his panic, he wants to find his mother and sob, he wants to find the people that are  _ his _ and sleep in the safety of their company for a century, he wants to  _ rest _ , he wants to run, run, to  _ fly- _

He’s a dragon, a fucking dragon, on top of everything else, and his uncle is yelling as he scrambles to his feet, on all fours like a beast, and he can’t even speak, he can’t, he can’t-

Uncle Iroh killed the last dragon, he’s a dragon, not safe, not safe!

His eyes meet Uncle’s. They both look towards the door, but Zuko is too swift, crashing through the door and scrambling down the halls.

Much to his horror and terror, dragons are not adept at sprinting on all fours, but home is no longer safe.

People are screaming, alarms are blaring, he must run, run, he breaches the outer doors and his legs bunch underneath him-

Fire whooshes past his face, drying and cracking the ooze from his wound, too close, and the terror sends him lunging for the air, wings beating at the air. And he rises up, away from the screams and the fire, away from the father that would melt away his face, away from the uncle that would kill him, away from  _ everything _ -

Already, his new muscles ache, but shock claims his mind like an old friend as he wings away from the palace. When Iroh’s voice carries on the wind, begging, Zuko does not stop. Does not turn.

There is no home here. Only ashes and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I love all of your comments and support, they mean so much! I love talking to you guys! Tell me what you think!
> 
> (Also, things to consider. Dragons speak through mental communication. Until I reveal what's actually being transmitted from Zuko to Iroh at the end, I'll let you all imagine what Iroh is picking up. <3)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph's POV, with a bit of Iroh at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass. D: But I hope you all enjoy it! Writing from Toph's perspective was an absolute delight, and we'll be back for another round of Zuko next chapter.
> 
> As always, please let me know in the comments if you enjoyed, and what your thoughts are! I love you guys so much! <3

Toph supposes that she has to give Master Yu’s stupid, redundant lessons some credit. If she hadn’t been so focused on listening around her so she didn’t have to listen to another breathing exercise, she wouldn’t have felt the  _ dragon _ hit the ground outside.

At least, that's what she guesses it is from all the people screaming “Dragon!” as they run outside to get a closer look.

Really, there’s no need to make such a fuss, she thinks, as she follows them out, Yu on her heels. It’s barely as big as a goat dog, and it curls in on itself as everyone streams outside in an attempt to make itself even smaller.

Her father is yelling, but all her attention is on the dragon. Heartbeat fluttering as fast as a spooked frog squirrel, it lets out a sound more akin to steam than any sort of animal noise. She can’t even see and she knows it has to be a pathetic sight.

Hissing. It’s hissing.

She takes a curious step forward. All the staff are keeping their distance, wondering amongst themselves what the creature will do. Liquid is dripping onto the ground from what she guesses is its face. The poor thing is practically hyperventilating. Don’t they see how scared it is?

Another step, and its breathing picks up. She’d find it impressive that anything can breathe that fast without fainting, but she’s immediately blasted with a torrent of emotion that she knows isn’t coming from her.

**_:FearFearAngerPAINPAINPAIN:_ **

Under the onslaught, she gasps, but she no longer has the air to scream. If that’s what it's feeling, no wonder it’s hyperventilating. Behind her, Yu makes a noise like the air has been punched out of him, and for the first time in her life, she sympathizes with him. 

A hand on her shoulder tugs her back a few paces, and the emotional wail lessens the further away from the beast she gets. To her left, she hears her mother whisper, “Lau, look at its face. It’s hurt.”

Hurt? Is that what’s causing the drip onto the earth? Hurt how?

Even back by her parents, she can still hear the mental keen. She can still hear  _ him _ (she doesn’t know what about the mental projection tells her that the dragon is male, what sense of identity manages to communicate through telepathy. This is a situation she has no frame of reference for).

Her father sighs. If she can tell that the dragon isn’t aggressive form what she can pick up from the ground, it must be plain as day for everyone else (she hopes. Most of the time, “everyone else” tends to be more blind than she is). The fear in their hearts soothes to a murmur.

Must be only her and Yu that can hear what he’s feeling, then, because she can hardly think straight enough to be any form of calm.

“Only a firebender can create a mark like that,” he mutters.

But didn’t Yu say that dragons were the original firebenders? Why would a firebender hurt one?

She doesn’t end up having to ask. One of the servants spits on the ground. “Disgusting, those firebenders are, burning animals. All for their  _ honor. _ ”

Another laughs, clapping her companion on the back. “Haven’t seen an honorable firebender all my life. Must have died with their dragons.”

More points of contact extend between the dragon and the ground as he flattens himself into the grass. Anger drains from him like infection from a wound, leaving only baffled confusion in its wake. Scaled muscles quiver against the ground.

Her father sighs again. Oh, she knows that sigh. Toph rubs her hands together. Lau Beifong, making a tough decision. The sigh that means “I don’t like any of my options so I’ll go for the most palatable one.” 

“Let’s see if it will let us tend to its injuries, shall we? I don’t know how much it understands, but it could be a valuable asset if it turns out not to be dangerous.”

Her mother jerks, twisting towards Lau as though burned. “Asset? It’s hurt! I’d be surprised if it can see anything out of that eye! We can at least treat it like a living creature, instead of a bargaining chip. This isn’t business.”

Defenseless, she thinks. Just like what her parents think of her. Hmm. Years of control keeps her hands from curling into fists.

Lau splutters like he wants to argue. His heartbeat climbs in that way it does right before he gets defensive, muscles tensing to brace for an argument-

Toph reaches out to grab his rob, giving it a delicate tug to catch his attention.

“Why not put it in the stables with the ostrich horses while you think about it?” sh offers. “That way it can heal in peace and quiet.”

Both mother and father chew this idea over. Before Lau has a chance to argue, Poppy takes her daughter’s hand.

“I think that’s a great idea, honey. The stablehands are used to taking care of nervous, sometimes hurt animals. They can take care of it while we decide what to do, right, dear?” There’s a warning in the last part, directed to her father. 

Toph bites back a laugh. That’s  _ definitely _ a tone she knows. Poppy won’t take any mistreatment of the dragon laying down.

The nearest servants approach the dragon with hesitant steps. Are they cooing at it like a scared ostrich horse? She snorts. As if they could make the dragon go somewhere it doesn’t want to.

But, evidently, he must find their voices calming, tension seeping from his body as they croon at him. Such a wound up creature. She wonders what happened to it, to leave it so wary of humans. The wound on its face is the most obvious answer, but he’s more like that cat Poppy had brought home once, that had been hurt all of its life and didn’t trust humans anymore. It had taken years to convince the tom of their sincerity. His mental howling softens to a dull ache. Though Toph can feel the pain on her cheek from the dragon’s projections, she no longer wants to smother it with a pillow to stop the hurting.

Why don’t any of the others hear it? It has to be only her and Yu, because no one could be so calm with this sort of invasion. Only when he’s far away does it leave completely.

Yu himself is shaking like he can’t help it. She’d laugh at the big, strong earthbender reduced to jelly if she hadn’t been so close to it herself.

No wonder he didn’t help. Toph’s not sure she could’ve recovered fast enough to provide aid, if the dragon had been hostile.

With the fog clearing from her mind, she wants to cheer. Really, it must be her birthday! Something interesting is happening on the estate,  _ and _ it interrupted her lessons? She must’ve been good this year!

Nope, she can’t even say that in her head. If anything, if her parents knew of her activities, they would say she had been spectacularly awful. 

Toph grins. Maybe they’ve forgotten about her, and she can go sneak after the dragon. She prepares to run after the servants-

A heavy hand ssnatches her wrist before she can lift a foot off the ground. Master Yu.  _ Damn it _ .

“Well!” he begins, with that exaggerated cheer that makes her want to bite his head off. “We’ll certainly need to recenter our breathing after this event! Let’s not let the afternoon go to waste!”

Belatedly, she wishes that she were the dragon, so that she could fly away from here. Or set them on fire. It doesn’t really matter which.

* * *

As all the night animals prepare for the evening chorus, Toph receives a message from her father, delivered by a stablehand that reeks of smoke: 

“Do not go near the dragon. We don’t know anything about it, and it could hurt you.”

Well, no. She can take care of herself. Besides, the dragon isn’t really all that special. A dedicated turtleduck would probably be able to do as much damage as the bundle of raw nerves in the stables.

Nevertheless, she waits until the usual time for staff to be asleep to sneak out of her room. Easy enough. Stealth is a skill she’s ruthlessly pursued since she’s stumbled across the badgermoles three years ago.

This time, she’ll be seeing a different bending master.

The stables are a much shorter walk than she’s used to, but more populated with people that have an invested interest in keeping her indoors. As she goes, she listens to the earth for anything alarming. Dodging the guards in child’s play with their strict patrol routes. Sending up a quick prayer to whomever might be listening, she darts into the stable.

Sleepy chirps greet her entrance, but none of the birds spook. Scraping scales guide her to the stable in the back, the largest they have made with the more wild ostrich horses in mind. (They also use it for brooding females tending to their eggs, but they don’t have any now, thank goodness.) The dragon is coiled in a miserable ball in the corner, but he goes still at her approach.

Ah. His hearing is better than she anticipated. Monitoring his movements through the earth, she notes that he tilts his right ear towards noise to ear it better. Interesting. The left must have sustained some damage in whatever incident marred his face.

But he sighs, and his head drops back to the earth. Sullen thoughts rub against her mind, but the words are indistinct.

She’s not stupid. Rather than opening the door, she sits with her back against it. A questioning honk reaches her ears.

“That was quite the landing. Did you mean to crash in Gaoling?” she asks. Speaking to an animal makes her feel foolish, but her mother once mentioned that animals can tell a lot from your tone, and she wants this one to trust her. He’s the first interesting thing to happen in years. She has an investment in his wellbeing.

What she doesn’t expect is emotions to flood her brain, the feeling of flight, of fear, of trying to escape an unstoppable force.

The destination, it seems, was unimportant.

Did… Did the dragon just answer her?

Does that mean he can understand what she’s saying?

“This might sound really stupid, and I hope I’m right so I don’t look like an idiot,” she begins, and she swears that he stills to listen to her. “Can you understand me?”

Silence. Hay crunches from the stall as the dragon readjusts, accepting that she’s here for the long haul. Her brain tickles (and, what a weird experience that is), and she realizes with sudden clarity that he doesn’t know how to respond to what she asked.

Like a  _ person.  _ He’s thinking.

Toph jumps to her feet in excitement. A startled squawk rises from within as the dragon flinches back from the door.

“You  _ do _ understand me!” she whisper-yells. If he’s reasonable, she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. Without further hesitation, she flings open the stall door.

In retrospect, it’s not the smartest thing she’s done. The dragon flattens himself to the wall, and she’s hit with his fear, fear, fear-

“Shut up!” she hisses right back at him. “I can’t think like this!”

The dragon recoils with a quiet gurgle. Confusion presses her mind like a cat begging for affection.

Then, as though forming the words and pushing them towards her takes some effort, :You can understand me? You can feel that?:

How could a creature not know anything about its own form of communication? Clearly, he needs to get out more.

Maybe that’s how a firebender got so close. If he doesn’t know how to talk, maybe he doesn’t know that firebenders will hurt him.

“Yes! It’s impossible  _ not _ to hear you!”

:Oh.: 

Sullen silence is her only company for a moment, and she’d be impressed were it not for the footsteps outside the stable.  _ Shit.  _ Looks like she’s not the only one curious about the dragon.

She  _ can’t  _ get caught here. Not without risking her night trips.

Briefly, she weighs the risk of getting fried by startled dragon and being dragged to her father to explain herself. The choice is any easy one. She closes the door and dives into the dragon, who crumples around her in surprise. 

With a whispered “sorry”, she snatches the tip of his wing and covers herself with it. 

Whoever joined them in the stables is saying something to the dragon, but she can hardly hear them now that she’s up close to him. He’s gone completely still, like he’s afraid to move. In her hands, his heartbeat skyrockets, and she wants to scream at him to  _ calm down _ before the people out there guess that something is wrong.

All his air leaves him in a sigh, and he catches on, curling around her to keep her presence out of view.

:No need to be so violent about it,: he sulks. :Felt like you kicked in my head.:

:Yeah?: she retorts. Oh, dragons are  _ warm.  _ If she’s here for the long haul (more staff keep coming in to gawk, damn it), at least she’ll be here in comfort. :Well, I’d say it’s payback. I think Master Yu almost wet himself back there with all the anger you were slinging around.:

Probably not a good idea to mention the fear just yet. Let him have some privacy. Well, for now.

:Anyways,: she sends, reclining back against him. :I’m Toph. Pleasure to meet you, walking fireplace.:

Every movement freezes the dragon, but he relaxes soon enough, apparently after convincing himself she isn’t dangerous. Best to let him think that.

Fortunately, he doesn’t reveal her as he loosens his coils to create the perfect nest. Oh, she’s keeping this one. Always warm,  _ and  _ a portable bed?

:Um, hi. I’m Zuko.: He places his head on her legs with a huff. Oh, now there’s an opportunity. She rests her hands on his head, and when he doesn’t pull away, lets her fingers skim over him to get a feel for what he looks like.

Oh, he’s got cute little branched antlers on his head. The underside of his muzzle is delightfully fuzzy, as is the sides of his face. A mane, she thinks. Two whiskers project from the end of his nose and touching them triggers an obnoxious sneeze, much to the amusement of the people outside. Gauze covers the left side of his face and his ear, and fingers straying anywhere near that area draws a cinnamon scented snarl.

:How on earth did this happen?: she asks without thinking. :You’re a big, scary dragon. Can’t you defend yourself?: (Well, the big part isn’t true. But the point gets across well enough.)

Zuko growls low in his throat, heat oozing from his maw.

:Alright, alright, I get it, Sparky, turn that shit off.: Her attention is drawn to the growing crowd of people outside. Huh. Looks like she’s not the only one that uses the night for recreational time. :Damn, looks like you’re stuck with me for a while.:

His whiskers tremble like he’s trying not to smile. :You’re what, six? Seven? Do your parents know you have a mouth like that?:

Would it be worth it to get caught so she could brain him with a rock? Probably not, but she makes sure he can feel her thinking about it.

Toph yawns. Can’t hurt to rest, since she’s not going anywhere for awhile. She pats Zuko on the head and is rewarded with a growl. Yep, perfectly safe.

Shrouded in dragon wings, sleep has never been easier to come by.

* * *

Iroh stares at the letters on his desk and fights the urge to set them on fire, like he would’ve before he turned away from anger and hate to fuel his bending. The memories are too sharp, too fresh in his heart.

_ Zuko stares at him with one big, golden eye, quivering from head to talon, and he’s stricken by mortal terror. Zuko’s terror. And it’s not just his new shape he’s afraid of, not Ozai, no- _

_ He’s realized what he is. And remembering who supposedly killed the last of them. _

_ He wants to stop that fear from growing, wants to explain, but Zuko is off like a shot, and Iroh can’t catch up- _

Agni, he knows he needs to sleep, but Zuko is out there, alone and confused and scared-

The look on Captain Zhao’s face when he realized that there was a living dragon strikes a thread of ice into his heart.

He’ll start with the White Lotus to get the word out. They can keep their eyes and ears open for rumors concerning dragons. And as they search, so will he.

All he can do is thank Agni that no one had seen the change itself. If his brother knew that Zuko himself was the dragon, no power in heaven or earth could save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toph: I'm eight, so shut the fuck up


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko POV
> 
> Making progress, one step at a time! More dragon facts come to light!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL OF YOUR GUYS COMMENTS ARE SO SWEET, THEY REALLY GAVE ME THE FIRE AND DRIVE I NEEDED TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

The first lesson he learns on the Beifong estate is sympathy for every creature kept in a stall.

On the first night, with Toph alongside him, he doesn’t pay much notice of his surroundings. The light of morning, however, reveals stark walls and a bedding of sawdust and hay. A water bucket hangs from a wall, as well as a worn spot where he guesses a grain bucket must have gone. Above the door is a gap for curious ostrich horses to stick their heads, which is much too short for him to do the same.

He flexes his claws into the sawdust. He might be able to climb the wooden slats on the door to escape through the gap. Flying isn’t an option; even if he could gain enough lift in his stall, his wings wouldn’t be able to fit outspread. And he certainly doesn’t have the skills to match any advanced maneuvers.

Yet, if he escaped, where would he go?

The second lesson he learns in his new home (calling it a home scares him, maybe temporary shelter would be better) is that sitting in a stall gives him plenty of time to think.

It’s not possible that he was cursed into this form. That sort of magic only exists in the Spirit World. Which suggests that he was born like this.

Living as a human is not the sort of power dragons are thought to have possessed. Though, he supposes it would make it easier to hide from humans. His father would have called it cowardice, hiding your true nature, but if you concealed yourself in order to survive, wouldn’t life be better than death?

Zuko knows what his father would say. He won’t bother thinking of the response.

Uncle Iroh had said he slayed the last of the dragons, but his own existence is proof that he lied. Or didn’t know the truth. And if they could hide from humans, couldn’t there be more? Surely he isn’t the last. Can they teach him how to change back, so he can go home?

If he goes back fast enough, won’t his father forgive him his absence?

How he came to be this way doesn’t matter so much as getting home. The Firelord can’t be led to think he fled from his punishment. He had shown a great disrespect and had been branded for it. Would his father think he had run in disgrace?

He did flee, but he had reason! He can’t restore his honor if he’s dead.

(And with his father’s honor still lingering on his face.)

But, until he learns how to change back, he has to survive. Right now, survival means recovery. If he has to stay here to do that, then so be it.

Much to his dismay, this form is different beyond outward appearances. Hunger only gnaws at his belly once a day, but the intensity of it is almost impossible to ignore. At the same time, thoughts of his old meals at the palace no longer sound appetizing to his palate. He wants meat, fresh and raw. (He knows he could cook it, and the human part of him pleads with his instincts to let him have this one thing. The dragon does not listen, and it will not tolerate cooked meat.)

When he’s hungry, much to his embarrassment, his instincts are near impossible to control. The staff only forget to feed him once. They insist it will never happen again when they find him in the stable hall, snarling at the ostrich horses.

Yet, the dragon part of his brain finds it hard to be disgusted with himself when he curls around a full belly every night. Pleasure is an emotion that this form feels most strongly after a meal.

So, Zuko and Toph develop a routine. Toph sneaks out every night, sometimes for a few minutes and sometimes for a few hours (where she goes on nights that she doesn’t stay long, he’s not sure it’s his place yet to ask). She bitches about her home life and he bitches about his boredom. In return, she says, for making life a little bit interesting, she unlocks the door every night as she leaves.

When the sun rises, he uses his free time to roam the estate and learn more about his new home. At first, he fears that the stablehands will be punished for Toph’s actions and his freedom, yet-

Yet, they don’t. No one yells at the servants, or beats them. The Beifongs and their staff treat them like valued employees. His initial response is smug satisfaction. They face no punishments for their actions, so they have no discipline or respect to the masters. But it sours into something like self disgust, because no one on this property is afraid. They are allowed to make mistakes without being treated as something less than human, because they _ aren’t _ less than human.

And it works. The servants and staff are loyal and hardworking. They are trusted. Beloved, even.

The only creature afraid here is him. And maybe those ostrich horses he growled at, he’s not entirely sure. They didn’t look all that impressed, if he’s honest.

Zuko stays on the outskirts of activity. To his infinite embarrassment, when he’s spotted, many attempt to call him over like a skittish panther-cat. These individuals he avoids as much as possible.

He’s certain he’ll be kept around like a mangy stray that people only tolerate (and for the rabbit-mouse population that he keeps under control, because they’re dropping like flies under his paws) when Master Yu approaches him one morning, a week after his arrival, to state, “I know you can understand me, dragon. Might we have words?”

Well, he needs allies in order to stay, even if Toph wouldn’t approve of this one, because no one will listen to Toph alone (which, he might add, is absolute absurdity, considering her earthbending abilities and self sufficiency). Zuko nods, keeping pace with Yu as he leads them around the grounds.

“Dragons are fascinating creatures,” he begins. Zuko fights back a snort. The stablehands would disagree. “And I, like everyone else, long thought they were extinct. So, I believe we might help each other.”

Oh? And how might these two statements be related?

:How do you propose we do that?: he offers, wary.

Yu jumps at the words. Maybe he didn’t expect him to talk back. Is this the first time they’ve actually communicated? He can’t remember. But Yu shakes off his nerves and plows onward.

Huh. Toph was right. He is a stubborn bastard. Part of being an earthbender, he guesses. Can’t yield.

“I want to examine you and learn more about you. Research like that could be quite valuable in the future.” Oh. That makes more sense. Profit. Easier to trust, then, with his motivations on the table. “Maybe we could discover something uniquely useful you might do for the Beifongs here, hmm?” Yu says with that overenthusiastic cheer. “In return, I’ll speak to Lao on your behalf. Get you an upgrade from that stall. Perhaps some trinkets for your hoard?”

Zuko wants to brush off his last words, but the very thought makes him drool. Everything that was  _ his _ was left at the palace. There are some earrings in his stall that someone misplaced, and Toph is working her way into being  _ his _ , maybe some of the staff, just like with the ones who cared for him at home-

Wait. Hoard?

Is that what he’s been doing?

Something in him roils, feverish and angry. He’s lost everything, and now the universe continues to take? Must even his humanity be forfeit?

In the end, it doesn’t matter. He wants what Yu’s offering more than he wants to cling to some idea of humanity he’s not sure even applied to him in the first place.

* * *

Master Yu holds him to his promise that night as the Stable Master changes his gauze. As always, the Stable Master is gentle as she works, tilting his face up by the chin into the light (they learned early on that cupping his uninjured cheek wasn’t going to fly).

Normally, they do this alone. Zuko doesn’t mind the intrusion, he doesn’t, only his wound, his  _ brand _ , is exposed-

The Stable Master runs her hands through his mane to soothe him, so similar to his mother, but he has to watch Yu, has to keep him in his sights. The earthbender walks towards them with easy steps, confidence oozing from his stride.

“Easy now,” he says as he approaches, raising his hands. “Just want to have a look at you.”

Okay. He can tolerate that. He lets his wings slump away from his body.

:Sorry,: Zuko starts, but Yu waves his apologies away.

“Not at all, not at all,” he dismisses as he bustles closer. “Now, let’s set some ground rules, shall we? I would rather not be a burning pile of ash, if you take my meaning.”

He has never nodded so fast in his life. :Loud and clear.: He gestures towards the left side of his face with a wingtip. :No touching.:

“Of course,” he agrees. “Some ground rules of my own. Growling is fine if you must, as is a little smoke, but no fire and no biting.” With the terms on the table, Yu begins his examination, starting with a few feet of distance. “How old are you?”

:Thirteen.:

There’s a frown on his face as he pauses in his circling at Zuko’s head. “You’re awful small for your age.” And how would he know that?! Where on earth is this old man getting his information?! Without warning, he lifts Zuko’s lips on the right side, and the shock prevents him from snarling. “Good teeth, though. Looks like you haven’t had enough meat in your diet, and it stunted your growth. Now that you’re under our care, however, we can provide.”

Much to Zuko’s relief, he releases his mouth to turn his attention to his wings. “Not much muscle here. Hmm…” He circles around again, peering at each taloned foot while keeping further comments behind his teeth. Only once he snaps his fingers next to both ears does he speak again.

“Oh.” He snaps again by the left ear. “Can you hear from that one?”

Zuko sighs as he notes the differences in how the snaps sounded and how his ears reacted. :Not as well as the right.:

“Now, your eyes. Depth perception is incredibly important for a dragon’s ability to hunt.” Can Zuko get a hold of the source of all this information? Agni wept, it would be so useful. Instead, Yu snatches a torch off the wall and crouches down to face level. Only, he can’t stop looking at the fire. His paws are shaking as Yu says something about pupil dilation, and the Stable Master is speaking as well, but he’s bringing the torch closer to his face and he had no idea that this would be in the examination-

Flames of his own build in his throat, but fighting back isn’t allowed, they’ll hurt him, they’ll hurt him if he doesn’t accept it, and the fire gutters into smoke-

“Stop!” someone yells, and the torch is gone but he can’t quite get the trembling to stop, and he wants to fly, fly, he has that power now if he can only-

He lifts his wings until a small child dives onto one, crumpling it against his side.

:Don’t you dare, Sparky. We aren’t them.:

:Easy, Zuko. You’re safe here.:

:We’ll take care of you here. No one will hurt you on this establishment.:

He can hear them, all of them, every person who’s ever snuck him meat, everyone who’s offered him a kind word, Toph, Poppy, the Stable Master-

And it’s not that they love him, he hasn’t been here long enough for that, but the care, the kindness, the compassion they have for other living things, for children, drive them to act.

Of course, a healthy hatred of the Fire Nation helps as well, but he can’t begrudge them that. Not when he’s seen their love and respect in action.

Zuko thinks he gets it now, having been in their company and watching them work. The Fire Nation can’t be the greatest, can’t be spreading their way of life for the benefit of others when it extinguishes such simple kindnesses as this.

As he stares around the many faces, he offers a sheepish smile even as he tries his best to hide his face with his paws. Oh Agni, the whole estate felt him freak out!

Oh! Dragons can blush! Who knew? Not wherever Yu gets his information, that’s for sure.

But if he connected to everyone on the estate when he was upset, that must mean he communicated with non-benders.

Then why-

Zuko tentatively sends out a tendril of confusion towards the Stable Master, who is thoroughly sick of Yu’s meddling and is shooing him away from her work. There’s resistance there; his energy doesn’t resonate as easily as it does with a bender, and he has to force his energy into hers rather than a mutual exchange.

The Stable Master freezes, then laughs, patting his head. “Get out of my head, Zuko, unless there’s something you need to tell me. You’re gonna give me a headache.”

Properly chastised, and a little uncomfortable that he shared enough for her to pick up his name, he retreats his circle of thoughts to himself and Toph.

Slinking off for the night is blessed relief.

* * *

Comforting someone is not a skill that Toph is adept at, nor does she see a need for it. 

Distraction, on the other hand, is right up her alley.

She only lets him get away with sulking for a week before he wakes up one morning to a dirty child foot pressing against his good cheek.

Agni damn, her nasty little toes smell like old noodles left out in the sun. No wonder her caretakers try to wrangle her to get her feet cleaned so often.

:Why are you even awake, you filthy gremlin?: he growls, attempting to swat her foot away. Earth trembles under his paws as the ground roots them away from her. :The sun isn’t even up yet, and I never see you earlier than noon.:

And, unfortunately, in their two weeks of comradery, he has become familiar with the grin that spreads across her face. The one that stretches from ear to ear as she revels at the prey caught in her trap. 

Zuko has, up until now, never been in that trap. Alas.

“I’m awake to yell at you, my loyal dragon! You must be punished for the crimes committed against Toph Beifong.” For good measure, she wiggles her toes against his scaly cheek.

:Toph, I’ll eat them. You’ll never get to do your weird earth listening thing again.:

Those grimy digits dig in deeper, and he wonders if it's possible to crawl right out of your skin. “You won’t. You act all bad and scary, and you may be dangerous as hell. But in that angsty teenage heart of yours is the fluff of a sheep pig.”

Smoke pools in his maw, so he blows it at her face. :What am I in trouble for, Your Majesty?:

“All those times you made us feel what was inside your head!” she shouts.

Thank you, Toph. Very clear. He waits, because her words are bait, and if he falls for it, she’ll dangle it in front of his face to mock him long before he finds out what she’s making him suffer for. So, he turns his head away and feigns disinterest like a perfect, spoiled prince.

Toph groans and swats at his nose. “Don’t ignore me! When you made us all experience your memories all those times you were scared or distressed, we had your sensory input! Everyone could hear what you did, feel what you felt.”

He wants to remind her that all those sharing events weren’t intentional. He’s never had to keep his very thoughts under control before.

(He also doesn’t remind her that the others could also see what he had seen. He has no idea why she can’t see his memories like the rest.)

(He also doesn’t know if the others have figured out who he is yet. He’s kind of scared to ask. Fortunately, the idea of a foreign enemy prince turning into a dragon is a bit too far fetched for easy belief.)

Zuko wants to answer, wants to ask where this is going, but that would make it so much fun for her to withhold it. With as much dignity as he can muster, he turns his head away.

“No, brat, listen to me! What if you try that without the memories? You’re already in my head, kinda! You could share your senses with me!”

Oh. That’s really interesting.

:Let’s give it a try,: he tells her, twisting his head back in her direction. Absorbing all of the sensory input is kind of like meditating with Uncle, but he has to take those experiences and filter them, then project them out to Toph like he would with words.

Toph tilts her head as though listening to something, then beams. “We’ll work on it, Sparky. I’m catching enough.”

:So?: he asks, tugging on his paws. Nope. Still firmly rooted. Even when she’s distracted. Damn it. :What purpose would that serve?:

Toph pulls her foot away from his face with a contented sigh. “I think I’ve thought of the perfect position for you to propose to my father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! I didn't think I'd ever use my biology degree for fanfiction, but here we are. The reason Toph can't see in Zuko's memories is because she was born blind, so her brain never developed the neurological pathways associated with sight!

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think! The next chapter is almost finished, and is from Zuko's perspective rather than Iroh's. I hope you enjoyed the introductory chapter! (This chapter is short, mostly because I felt it needed to be and also because the next one is QUITE a bit longer. <3)


End file.
